It was a picturesque day at Windchaser Park in west Chrystal Heights. The sun was shining and the sky was cloudless. The water was so clear you could see the fish feeding peacefully on the bottom of the lake. Even the quacking of the ducks seemed musical.
Like I actually gave a shit.
I was mind-numbingly bored. I wanted to grab the fish, hit the stupid birds over the head with them and then stick them up the ducks’ feathery asses. There had to be something fun to do somewhere.
“Hey, Liz,” said a voice. “Another new tat?”
I glanced over my shoulder. Trish and Ellen were making their way toward me.
“Yeah,” I said, lifting the bottom of my tee-shirt so they could see my lower back. I was quite proud of my various tattoos.
“Lightning bolts,” said Trish. “Sweet.”
Ellen pointed to one of the tats on my forearm. “What does ‘FTW’ mean?”
I looked at her, then rolled my eyes.
“It means ‘Fuck The World,’ ditz,” supplied Trish.
“Oh,” said Ellen.
“Hey,” I said to Trish and Ellen, “we need to find something to do before I wig out.”
Trish threw a rock at a duck, barely missing. “Yeah,” she said. “They won’t let us hang at the drug store anymore, just ‘cuz of that stupid shoplifting charge, and the liquor store don’t open ‘til eleven. Breaking those stained glass windows yesterday was fun, but I doubt they’re fixed yet. They’d probably be watching for us anyway. Any ideas, Ellen?”